


Oh, Brother!

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Businessman Castiel, Dean grew up on a commune, Divorced John Winchester/Mary Winchester, F/M, Hippie Dean Winchester, John raised Dean while Mary raised Sam, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Masseuse Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sam doesn't like Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Castiel Novak resigned himself to permanent bachelorhood, understanding that maintaining a work-life balance is impossible. Even if his best friend Sam Winchester made it look easy. Although not everything in Sam’s life is as perfect as Castiel thinks as Sam’s brother shows up unexpectedly and casts a shadow over his best friend’s mood.Through random meetings, the mystery of Dean Winchester grows and captivates Castiel. Is he really as bad as Sam thinks? Why did he move here, to where Sam lives? Why is he so stupidly attractive and straight?Will this hippie be able to answer these questions, and show workaholic Castiel how to truly relax?





	Oh, Brother!

**Author's Note:**

> So today is the DAY! Time to share what I've been cooking up with foxymoley for the flipfest...
> 
> I am so proud of not only how this fic turned out but also by how fantastic the artwork looks. Foxymoley really shined with the work and this wouldn't have been the same if it was without images.
> 
> As for the idea, I'm such a fan of seeing a contradictory Dean. So for him a true 'flip' would see him becoming what he always complains about - a hippie. I hope you all enjoy reading this as I did writing!

[ ](https://ibb.co/G9XJnWL)

Castiel glanced up from his phone as the elevator dinged and opened. He smiled, easily finding Sam waiting for him. The taller man returned the gesture with a grin and a friendly wave. Stepping inside, Castiel didn’t speak until the doors closed once more. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Fine enough,” Sam shrugged, “After lunch I got hit with a nasty amount of paperwork. You didn’t hear it from me but we’ll be shielding another brand with our umbrella…”

“Oh great,” Castiel huffed, “Does my team get to hold a recruitment drive or are we piling more onto our already full plates?”

“That’s a question for HR, not legal.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, bumping shoulders with his friend. Sam hit him right back, nearly knocking him off his feet. He was glad no one else was in their elevator, lest he slap someone with how wild his hands flapped.

Sam may be his best friend, but he was a giant first. It was the foremost thought Castiel had when he met the corporate lawyer at a company wide event. He’d been leaning against the bar for over ten minutes, ignored by everyone _including_ the bartender. His brother said it was because of his omnipresent the trench coat, still on despite the coat check’s grabby hands. When he was about to give up, an arm shot out beside him and flagged the flighty bartender’s attention. “One whiskey sour and…” he smirked at Castiel, “what do you want?”

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Sam was fresh out of Stanford’s prestigious law school and scooped up by Sandover Holding Company. Castiel had spent a year in an associate position within a marketing team for their software solutions branch. A few years later, their bond and responsibility grew. Now Sam stood tall as the head lawyer within his department and Castiel managed the international sales and marketing for household products and food.

But power was never easy, and their new positions found them working odd hours. Transit, hard to come by at certain times in the day, made Castiel's commute even worse. Instead of waiting for a bus Castiel caved and wasted money on cabs; until one night Sam offered to drive Castiel home. Their carpool anniversary will be in a few days although Castiel knew six months compared to their lengthy friendship was merely a blink.

Enough that Sam barely bat an eye as Castiel unruffled his feathers, smirking. “You’re getting better,” Sam said, “I remember one time I did that you tumbled down a flight of stairs.”

“My ribs might have recovered but I can still feel the bruises on my pride,” Castiel told him. He over exaggerated, the fall leaving him with no serious injuries. “I’ve been trying out this new training app. Grueling, but I’ve been seeing serious results.”

“So that’s why you’ve been looking less frumpy,” Sam said, “I wondered if you’d gotten a new trench coat?”

Castiel gasped. “Never!”

Sam chuckled, “And your ex says you have commitment issues…”

He blushed, reminded of Ezekiel’s last words to him. They’d been over for months but the wound stung like he carved it yesterday. Their relationship ended with a fizzle, both too tired to keep pretending everything was okay. The last straw was when Castiel had to cancel a date because an emergency came up that forced him to stay until midnight. “Not all of us can be like you,” Castiel sighed, “married to someone who understands the life.”

Eileen and Sam met in a contract law class back in Stanford. The teacher required her students form study groups and he was the only one who knew sign language. Not only did they ace every test and presentation but over the semester they fell in love. They married the July after their graduation.

“We’re rooting for you, y’know that,” Sam said. Doors opening to the lobby, they exited. “If you want, one of our friends moved back to the West Coast to counsel for a start-up. He’s very busy and very gay… it might work out for you two.”

Nodding to the night guard, Castiel said, “I think love might not be in the cards for me. I’m good with where I’m at now.”

“If you’re sure… but if anything changes let me –“

“Sammy!”

They both turned to where a shabby looking man jogged over to them. He was tall, almost Sam’s height but not quite. Although if his hair grew any longer it could match Sam’s, the locks already blanketing the tips of his ears. Unkempt scruff coated a very strong jaw. Green eyes highlighted by the red surrounding him, the smell very obvious as to what made it that color. And his clothes were completely out of place and time. His faded multi-colored tee shirt and flared jeans better belonged fifty years in the past then worn today. What truly surprised Castiel was how the man didn’t seem to wear any shoes. He walked the dirty concrete barefoot with no hint of disgust.

But disgust painted itself vividly across Sam’s face. The intense expression was foreign on his friend and, along with the stranger’s repeated use of Sam’s name, made Castiel curious as to what scene would unfold.

“Dean,” Sam hissed, glaring at the other man, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I was waiting for you, Sammy! Seriously, though, could you have dragged it out any longer? I thought it was nine to five not five to nine…” Dean smiled at Castiel, jerking his thumb at Sam. “Workaholic, much?”

“Don’t talk to him,” Sam smacked Dean’s hand. He grabbed at the other man’s arm and walked away, hissing, “Really? At my office? How long have you been…” They moved over towards where a sleek looking black car rested. Checking it over quickly Castiel guessed it belonged to the enigma known as Dean.

It did not match at all with what he presented on first glance, but the closer he inspected the car the easier it was to pair it with its owner. Trunk covered in bumper stickers that looked more like an art piece than actual support. Inching closer, he saw beaded seat covers hanging off the back of the front bench. Squinting, Castiel noted the peace symbol on the rearview mirror.

His attention drew back to Sam and the other man when his friend’s voice rose. Startled, he quickly intervened. “Sam,” Castiel started, “Sam is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Sam muttered, rubbing at his forehead, “Why don’t you go wait by the car and I’ll be there in a few –“

“Sam,” Castiel said, “who is this –“

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“You’re still embarrassed by me Sammy?” Dean asked, chuckling, “Woulda thought you’d be unshakeable in that _ criminally _ expensive suit.” He extended a hand out towards Castiel. “I’m Sam’s brother –“

“Dean!”

“Dean?” Castiel said, eyes darting between the two Winchesters, “I didn’t know you had a brother, Sam.”

“I never asked for one,” Sam bit out.

Dean slapped his hand back over his chest before Castiel could even contemplate shaking it. “You hurt me, Sammy, you really do!” The act dropped immediately though, Dean rolling with the punches. “Come on, you’re making a bigger deal out of this than it is –“

Sam rounded on him. “Do you know what would have happened to me if my bosses knew I was associated with someone like _ you _?”

“What?” Dean asked, “It’s legal in California!”

“You never think! What were you even doing here anyway?”

“I’m moving!”

Sam grew paler at his announcement. “What?”

“I’m moving,” Dean repeated, “Found a place in the city, got good energy and all that. Starting fresh in a new town. You’d know if you responded to any of my e-mails…”

“Dad,” Sam whispered, “He’s not…”

For the first time this evening, Dean’s smile fell. “It’s just me,” he said, “John’s still up in Sioux Falls hangin’ at Bobby’s.”

Sam relaxed save for the frown lines still etched on his face. He dragged a hand down his face, stepping away from his brother. “Does mom know you’re here?”

“Called her a week ago,” he said, “_ She _ was happy about me coming to live closer to y'all…”

The plaintive jab was met with a hearty eye roll. “I don’t have time for this,” Sam waved him off, “so you’re here. Fine. We can talk about this over the weekend.” When Dean asked after his address Sam growled, “Same as the last time you… _ visited _.” He stomped off towards the adjoining parking lot, leaving Castiel alone with his brother.

Dean laughed once more, glancing at Castiel. “He’s not always such a ray of sunshine…”

“I know,” Castiel said, “Truthfully in all the time I’ve known Sam he hasn’t acted like this.”

“Brothers.” That’s all Dean will say about that.

Castiel nodded. “I have a few brothers myself… we’ve never treated each other like –“

“How do you know Sam?” Dean asked him, “Work together?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well how about that…”

“Cas!” Sam yelled for him, “Dean! Stop bothering him.”

“You better go,” Dean shrugged, walking round to the driver’s side door. “It was nice meeting you, Cas. Maybe the universe will see to it we cross paths again.” Castiel waited there, watching Dean drive away. A strange feeling gnawed at his gut from being a spectator to a Winchester reunion. The urge to support Sam's behavior churned in his gut, unsure whether to rise. From an outsider's perspective Sam overreacted and came down rather harshly on his brother. Yet he knew Sam had reasons to fly off the handle, the larger man more of a gentle giant. Although whatever happened between the two for their relationship to deteriorate to that point was unknown to him. 

Distracted, Castiel walked over to Sam’s car in a trance and entered. Sam said nothing as he started the car and exited the parking lot and towards the freeway. Usually they’d have the radio on, backdropping their continued conversation from the elevator. There was none of that tonight. Sam kept his eyes on the road, hands nearly crushing the wheel. Castiel drummed his fingers on his bag trying to find anything to strike up a conversation. All attempted segues led back to Dean.

“So –“

“I’m sorry for how that all went down,” Sam cut him off, “My brother, he – he drives me so _ crazy _.”

“Like I told Dean, I can understand… but I’ve never treated any of them like _ that _. Even Gabriel, and you’ve met him.” His brother could drive him to near madness with his pranks and distaste for scheduling. Still Castiel offered warmer greetings when the threads connecting them were at their thinnest.

“Gabriel isn’t _ Dean _,” Sam said.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Castiel told him, “That way I have a better idea with what’s going on. Until now I thought you were an only child!”

“Because I wanted to be one,” Sam said, “My brother… he was raised by my dad.”

“You’ve never talked about _ him _ either.”

“We don’t have the _ best _ relationship.” Sam then launched into his story, telling Castiel of the disastrous affair between Mary and John Winchester.

Mary met John one afternoon after a heated argument between her and her parents. Walking the streets, she bumped into a stranger in a suede leather jacket and a beard so unkempt he looked wild. She would’ve passed him by if not for the guitar strapped to his back. Curiosity beckoned her closer. Asking after it, he sat right there and began playing for her. Uncaring for all the pedestrians growling, interrupted by the sudden concert. Cupid struck Mary in the middle of ‘Hey, Jude’.

[ ](https://ibb.co/D4m8J3N)

John wandered America in his youth, taking odd jobs here and there before hitting the road again. When he jumped off the back of a pick up in Lawrence, he hadn’t expected to stay there for more than a few days. Meeting Mary changed all that, and John put off his plans to learn about the girl with a storm behind her eyes, ready to leap into whatever fight fell her way.

Their love burned like a wildfire, changing the entire landscape of their lives. Mary’s parents didn’t approve of John or his beliefs, but that’s exactly what made Mary want to keep him around longer. To go on more dates, stayed up late chatting, smoking, and ultimately understanding each other _intimately_ in John's car. They eloped after she showed him a positive pregnancy test.

“Dean,” Sam told him, “Everything was fine the first few years. Dad got a job as a mechanic, and they seemed to be doing pretty okay. Settling into suburban living. But then…”

One of John’s old pals stopped for a visit. He looked shifty, eyes pale and near yellow like his teeth. Mary didn’t want him in the house, nervous having him near Dean and a six-month old Sam. John couldn’t turn him away, going on about kindness and brotherhood. How when John was locked up for protesting it was with this stranger's help that he bailed and continued his journey to Mary. Without him they wouldn't have met. So Mary caved, with the condition that after one night on the pullout he would leave and find the next bus out of town.

A night was all that was needed. With everyone asleep, the man readied a needle and some heroine. “That wasn’t the end, though,” Sam said, “In his high he stumbled up the stairs and into my room. Thought it’d be the perfect place to light up a cigarette.”

Mary smelled the smoke first. She woke John and told him to get Dean while she went for Sam. His nursery set ablaze with the yellow-eyed man asleep peacefully in the rocking chair. Braving the flames, Mary snatched Sam up and ran from the room as the roof collapsed. Dean and John waited on the stairs. When they saw her emerge, nightgown stained with soot and burning at the hems, they turned to finally leave. For the last time the Winchesters left their house in Lawrence, KS.

The ashen remains of their house mingled with those of the torn family. When the firefighters presented Mary the needle she flew into a rage and yelled at John until she was hoarse in the throat.

Divorce followed. The judge presiding over their case was a piece of work, too. In the hearings, he decided separating one parent from their children was too much so each kid would go to one of them. “Since I was a baby, mom got to keep me. Dean went with my dad up to some commune in Minnesota. Mom moved as far away as she could – all the way to California.”

“And Dean?” Castiel asked, “This doesn’t seem to be the first time you’ve seen him.”

“He visited when I was twelve,” Sam said, “Showed up in that same, dumb car he drives now. Mom kept in contact with him, phone calls, letters… But I remember meeting him then because he’d just gotten his license and wanted to show her, visit… and I’ll admit I thought he was pretty cool with his long hair and no responsibilities, all the ladies he could ask for. He was my dad’s son all right.”

“Things changed, I imagine?”

Sam chuckled. “No fooling… The older I got the more I realized how lame it all was. Being a free spirit means nothing if you don’t have anything to return to. Dean and my dad… they’re living in a fantasy. Not realizing who they’re hurting with their actions. They don’t care though; all that matters are the vibes, their drugs, and _ independence _.”

“Your brother,” Castiel asked, “you’re sure he’s like this?”

“Trust me.”

“But moving –“

“He won’t be here long,” Sam brushed it off, “Longer than usual, but he’ll be turning tail and running back to the farm he lived on before. Especially when he has to start paying _ taxes _ .” Sam snorted, “Don’t even know how he’s going to do _ that _…”

“Dean may surprise you, Sam –“

“Why are you defending him?” Sam asked, turning away from the road to look at him. “He didn’t say anything did he?”

“No –“

“Offer you anything?”

“Seriously Sam?” Cas sighed, “We barely exchanged a few pleasantries before you called for me.”

“Sorry, sorry…” Sam bit his lip, turning off the ramp and onto regular roads. “You wouldn’t be the first friend I had that he… _ tried _ that with. My prom date ended the night in the backseat of _ his _ car… And my freshman year roommate ruined three shirts of mine _ and _ a shoe because Dean snuck in and shared some of his shrooms.”

“I know better than _ that _ Sam…”

“You’re right.” Sam pulled up to Castiel’s apartment building and stopped the car. “Don’t know why I’m letting myself get so heated… Dean won’t be here forever. I’m a little embarrassed you saw me like that.”

Castiel smiled, reaching out to his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Family makes us all crazy.”

“Trust me though, last time you’ll ever see me like that,” Sam told him, “You won’t ever have to worry about Dean again.” He said goodnight to Castiel after that, promising to be there at the same time tomorrow.

Castiel barely waved in response, lost in thought about Sam’s parting message. Sam may want his business to Dean with end, believe that he will never come up again, but Castiel wasn’t so sure. A few butterflies bouncing around his chest led him to the conclusion that his and Dean’s first meeting would not be their last.

[](https://ibb.co/KNRKmkd)

He ran into him - quite literally - during his Saturday morning run. Three weeks passed since they last saw each other, an odd coincidence that they do so again without Sam in this park. Castiel noticed him first, able to identify Dean from a distance even though their introduction was brief.

Dean stretched languidly on a grassy knoll wearing a much skimpier outfit than last time. The outfit looked more fit for present day although it would definitely require a few black bars. His tank top stretched thin over his body, nipples peeking past the fabric. And the booty shorts rode high with the simplest of movements. Castiel nearly tripped over his own feet when Dean raised his hands and his taut stomach peeked out from underneath.

Opening an eye, Dean noticed Castiel’s stare. To his surprise he grinned and broke from his pose, waving madly. Castiel slowed down to a jog before stopping fully on the path. Dean skipped over to him.

“Cas!” he cried, tugging him into a hug, “Man, how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well, Dean,” Castiel said, struggling within his grasp. He squeezed his arms in and pried them apart. “I can see you are transitioning fine?”

“Did Sam tell you?”

Castiel blushed, breaking Dean’s earnest eye contact. “He… hasn’t spoken much of you.” Although it was obvious Sam was dealing with his brother with how more common his friend’s tense jaw and hard stare popped up during the day. The shift in his mood was evident to everyone. Even Becky, his friend's biggest fan, didn't know how to act around him. She used to bother Sam whenever a break appeared in her schedule. Now she avoided him.

“Right, makes sense,” Dean chuckled, brushing it off easier than Castiel thought possible, “What with his whole aggro-trip the other day… y’know he still hasn’t come to visit my new place?” He shrugs, stretching his arms behind his back. “Saves me the effort of saging the apartment again… sometimes when you do the burnings so close together it causes more harm than help, y’know?”

“I… no. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe you should,” Dean said, leaning in close. His eyes flicked over Castiel’s face, scanning him. “You’re completely unbalanced, your third eye is squinting and…” He laid his hand against Castiel’s chest, drawing a startled breath from him. “Anahata’s a complete mess… bad breakup?”

Castiel growled, pushing back. “Ever heard of something called personal space?”

“Sorry,” Dean said, smiling, “I kind of forget about that kind of stuff when I get all in the groove. Too distracted by your colors…” Dean returned to his mat, sitting in a basic lotus position. His shorts rode up they straddled the line between exercise wear and undergarments.

It was an out, but Dean’s words drew him in. He followed the breadcrumbs like an ant. “Colors?” Castiel asked, “What do you mean colors?”

“We all have these auras floating around our bodies…” Dean explained while waving his fingers around his face. “Like our souls are trying to break free from our flesh and communicate, intermingle with each other and the world…”

Castiel’s mouth thinned out, skewing his head to the side. “Really?” he said, “So… what color is my ‘aura’?” The finger quotes were excessive and highly aggressive, matching the snarky venom tinting his words. Thankfully Dean’s eyelids were safer to talk to than his intense green stare.

“So many colors,” Dean whispered, “Like a rainbow…”

Castiel glared, kicking at the dirt beneath him. “_Cute _. Sam tell you I’m gay?”

“You know well enough Sam doesn’t tell me anything.” Dean's eye sprung open, “Like he doesn’t tell you anything about me. But you’re curious.”

He stumbled backwards, blanching. “What? No – no I’m –“

“It’s okay to be curious, dude. I’m flattered.” Dean rocked back and forth, laughing. “You have every right to be; best friend’s brother popping out of thin air like he did – who _ wouldn’t _ want to hear that story, especially given how Sam reacted and how _ different _ we are.” He stopped, glancing up at Castiel. “He tell you about what happened?”

“Sam said a few things about your pasts…”

“Your opinion of me as bad as his?”

“I… have no opinion of you whatsoever.”

“Wow... way harsh, man.”

“Well all I know of you is from Sam, and even then that’s not much,” Castiel told him, “I’ll need to hear more if I’m going to feel any type of way about you.” After saying that, though, Castiel wondered why he should even bother. Dean Winchester could be as deep as a puddle under the hot summer sun. A caricature of a person raised so protectively he only existed as a stereotype. Maybe Sam's sniping comment was more an observation, and Dean's mind sat peacefully atop his shoulders.

But then their eyes met like they did all those days ago, and something stirred inside Castiel’s chest. Like a small cork lodged there slowly displaced allowing a weak stream to begin leaking. Tiny rivulets of warmth bleeding throughout him.

Dean glanced away, breaking their contest. “I don’t need know a lot about you to know that I like you,” Dean said, shrugging.

Castiel’s jaw hung wide open. “What?”

“But I’ve always been like that, no surprise here…” he giggled, rubbing his hands on his knees. “You probably want to hear my side of the story now, right?”

He should be on his way home, finishing his laps. “I… wouldn’t be opposed –“

“Not now.”

Castiel frowned. “What?”

“The energy is all wrong,” Dean continued, holding his hands aloft as he gazed into the sky, “Besides, I’m so distracted. Wouldn’t be able to do my life story any justice.”

He snorted. “Really? Busy day for you?”

Dean nodded. “After I finish up here I have to go buy some snacks and extra toilet paper for the orgy I’m throwing later.”

“Right, right for the – _ what _?”

“You can tag along, invitation’s open,” Dean said, “If you’re gay though you might want to steer clear of the _ pussy _ . And shower beforehand.” He grinned at him, eyeing his sweat-stained shirt. “It’s impolite to show up _ messy _.”

“That’s… that’s not…” Castiel cleared his throat, blush rising. He stiffened, closing himself off and turning away. “My day is as packed, if not more.”

“Trust me ‘_packed_’ is the word of the day for me…”

“I really should get going,” he said, backing away onto the pebbled path, “Things to do.”

“If orgies aren’t your thing maybe join me one day for some yoga,” Dean suggested, uncaring to Castiel’s attempts at escape, “Flexibility might not help on a resume but it’ll improve your social life.”

“My social life is _ fine _.”

“…Your colors dimmed as you said that, so you know.”

Castiel sighed, jogging in place. “I need to get back to my run.”

“Of course,” Dean said, no drop of maliciousness in his tone, “I get it. Run away Cas… there’ll be other days. Maybe when we’re both less… _ busy _.” He moved his leg up and placed it behind his head. “Let Sammy know I said hi!”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, licking his dry, chapped lips. “Of course…” Castiel sped away and didn’t turn back. There was no need, he felt Dean’s stare burning their mark on his back. The burn lasted for the rest of the run, and stung even after closing his door to the rest of the world. Like two welts of raised flesh were waiting for him to touch.

Dean became a thorn in his side he couldn’t seem to remove, nor did he want to for whatever strange reason.

[](https://ibb.co/KNRKmkd)

In hindsight Castiel should have been prepared to find Dean at the local co-op. Given the general style of customers Dean should have blended in with the crowd. Except Castiel doubted Dean could hide even if cramped into a room with a thousand other men dressed similarly to him. He stuck out immediately to Castiel when he passed the aisle. It wasn't because of his outfit like all the other times they crossed paths. A sheer sort of shirt hung off his frame, where he stood showcasing the silhouette of Dean’s bare back. His pants must have been made from the same material, the baggy fabric looking soft to the touch. They also bunched up at the ankle, allowing Castiel to notice the flip-flops he wore. He breathed a sigh of relief to know he respected _ some _ rules. Overall though Dean's outfit whispered basic unoriginality. On him, though, every basic shape looked better than if it hung off a hanger.

Dean’s attention focused on the different pastas in hand, brow furrowed. Ignorant to the hard glare Castiel fired his way. He didn't need to go down that aisle, and if he made it to the cashiers fast enough they would not have to engage in another strange meeting. But Castiel’s legs started without approval, drawing him over to Dean.

As Dean placed one box back, he finally saw Castiel approach. He smiled, turning to greet him in a hug. The box knocked against Castiel’s head, but he didn’t care. The warm, casual greeting startled him too much for any sort of reaction. “Cas,” Dean said, pulling back, “Funny running into you here. Figured places like this weren’t really your scene.”

“Yes, well…” Castiel played with the sleeve of his button-down, forcing his brain’s cogs to begin working again. “I can forgive a few things given how nutritious the products are here.”

“And it all goes back to the people,” Dean sighed, tossing the pasta into his basket, “Not into some douche in a suit who could care less about how something’s made. Everything tastes better with _ love _.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Do you consider everyone in a suit to be a… _ douche _?”

“Naw,” Dean said, winking, “I think _ you’re _ sweet, Cas.”

He shouldn’t be surprised when his heart skips over itself at Dean’s charming expression, but Castiel still ducked his head and willed his cheeks to return to their tanned tint.

“Wow,” Dean said, “what kind of salad are you making?” His observation drew Castiel from his own thoughts and down towards his basket. It overflowed with fruits and vegetables, hiding a few of the jars he placed inside.

“I’m not making a salad,” Castiel told him, “They’re for this juice cleanse I’m on –“

“Oh no!” Dean slapped a hand to his face, “You’re one of _ those _ guys!”

“I beg pardon –“

“You don’t have to beg with me, Cas,” Dean sighed, “Really –“

“Just what are you going on about, Dean?”

“Juice cleanses?” Dean snorted, “They’re _ fake _. All they do is trick you into thinking you’re being healthy when really you’re depriving yourself of a lot of the stuff you need to keep your body in harmony.”

Castiel raised a sarcastic brow. “I never would have taken you for a carnivore, Dean.”

“What? No, I’m full-on vegan,” Dean said, “But, like, at least my diet has a healthy balance of nutrients and shit. There are other ways to get your vitamins than from some poor animal's flesh.”

Castiel scoffed, frowning. “How do you know so much about what makes for a good diet? ”

“One of the teachers on the commune I grew up in,” Dean explained, “She was a nutritionist. Really emphasized all those good lifestyle tips. Kicked a lot of the crap out that’d normally pass for munchies fuel – which was for the best. By the time I started smoking I’m glad there weren’t any bags of processed crap around or I wouldn’t be as fit and beautiful as I am now.” Then, he tugs his shirt up, showing Castiel his freckled abs; “You don’t get this type of body by stuffing your face with junk food… not by drinking _ juice _ either.”

He bit back a gasp, instead swallowing it down past the lump that developed in his throat. Dean’s basket slid back into the crook of his elbow as he used his now free hand to skim the skin there with his fingers reverently. Tracing it like Michelangelo must have done with the marbled perfection of David. “That’s… that’s really…”

“Whoa, man,” Dean murmured, “did you take something?”

“What?” Castiel’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s, a fierce blush working his cheeks. Dean watched Castiel with a smirk.

“You look dazed and confused,” Dean chuckled, “What was it? A dab? Acid? _ Shrooms _?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I’ve never ingested _any_ of those types of things.”

“Yeah, you _ seem _ like a tight-ass… but you can tell me the truth. Not even once?”

“Never.”

“Really? Even Sam tried it _ once _.”

“What?”

“He’d kill me if I told,” Dean sighed, “Oh, like he wouldn’t now… when we were younger – I want to say his junior year of high school – he found me hotboxing in my Baby. Instead of ratting me out to Mary he joined… didn’t matter in the end, we both were grounded. Boy could barely control his gangly teenage limbs, giggling all over the place.” Then, Dean raked his stare up and down Castiel’s body. “Y’know… I think you’d be the same. All giggly… I don’t think you’d be the type to get paranoid.”

Castiel pictured Sam as he was now combined with Dean’s description, but his best friend wearing a smile anywhere near his brother was unfortunately unimaginable. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“I mean you could always swing by my pad,” Dean offered, “Check out the digs, hang… relay the sights to Sammy.”

“He still hasn’t come out to visit?”

Dean sagged, frowning. “No, whenever we run into each other he always splits before I can work up to asking. Like the few times we see each other here, he’s always racing towards the exits, piling stuff into his canvas bags.”

“Families are a… tricky thing,” Castiel shrugged, reaching out to squeeze Dean’s shoulder supportively, “Next time I see Sam I’ll put in a good word or two.”

The other man’s countenance flipped back into its default state of happiness. “Awesome! I knew you were one of the good ones, Cas.”

“I’m glad to have your seal of approval.” Touch lingering a beat too long, Castiel dropped his hand. However it kept tingling from where he felt Dean’s shoulder through the flimsy excuse of a shirt he wore. “I hate to cut this short... but I was on my way to the cashier myself…”

Dean waved him off. “I understand. The wheel of capitalism stops for no man, no matter how handsome he is.”

Blushing deeper, Castiel chose to ignore Dean’s last comment; writing it off as meaningless chatter. He nodded goodbye and headed directly to the checkout aisles.

It didn’t take long for the cashier to ring him up. During the entire process, though, his mind and eyes were stuck back where he left Dean. Hoping against his common sense that he’d peek out again and maybe find his way over to the exit as well. A coincidental accident when two people meant to end a meeting only to find it continuing past their well-intentioned farewells. Usually Castiel held the firm belief that those situations were awkward, but wouldn’t mind dealing with it to speak to Dean again.

When the cashier told him his amount, Castiel sighed and centered himself. He handed over his credit card, pouting at the amount on the display. “This cleanse better be worth it…” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Have a nice day,” Castiel said to her, smiling, taking back his card. Grabbing his canvas bags Castiel left the store.

They weren’t heavy bags but Castiel struggled with them nonetheless. His back twanged as it had since the morning, letting him know that the intense workout he suffered through the other day was maybe a bit too rough. “_Gabriel _ …” Castiel sighed, “Why did I let you convince me _ two _ cheat days in a row were okay…”

Sliding one bag up his arm, his back protested even further. He powered through it, heading towards the bus stop. Hand free, Castiel dug around his pocket for his Clipper card. Spotting the bus pulling in, Castiel hurried faster and took the card out.

Then, as an unlucky start to a disastrous series of events, Castiel stumbled over a small divot in the parking lot. He dropped the card, cursing silently under breath as he watched it fall. Not wanting to miss the bus, Castiel bent down to pick it up. Fingers barely dusting the thin plastic, Castiel felt the pain in his back more than double. He froze in place. The bus stopped and people got on all except him who remained unmoved. His back flared with pain, enough to cause tears to form in the corner of his eyes.

Trying to stand was not an option; even the slightest inch caused Castiel’s back to ripple further with harsh tremors, enough for a low groan to eek out past his lips. His bag slipped down his shoulder to hit against the ground, joining the other that had a much softer landing.

Past the haze of his agony, Castiel heard the bus doors sliding close and it driving away. “Great,” he hissed, “Just great…”

“Dude, I think this isn’t the right place for some light stretching…”

Blood rushed faster to Castiel’s face at the sound of Dean’s voice. “Dean…” Castiel said, “Help…”

Dean knelt down beside him, Castiel unable to see more than his foot in his line of sight. A soft touch prodded at his back, toying with the pain there. Castiel bit his lip, grunts lost in his mouth. “Such a tight knot…” Dean sighed, “Cas, buddy, what happened?”

“Bent down…” Castiel struggled to explain, “Pain… Hurt before but not – not like this.”

“Your back’s seriously messed up,” Dean told him, “Probably from sitting at a desk all day doing whatever it is guys in suits do.”

Castiel scowled. “No… working out…”

“And did you stretch before and after?”

He didn’t respond. Castiel hadn’t had time for that, only managing enough time in his breaks to use the weights and the machines before he needed to be back in the office.

Dean took his silence as answer enough. “Okay, come on, let me help you out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to fix your back.”

Castiel hummed sarcastically. “Do you know how?”

“Of course.” Dean tried leading him away, but Castiel stayed rooted to the ground. “Come on, Cas, trust me… you’re not gonna fix anything hunched over like this all day.”

“I could call for an ambulance?”

“And get overcharged? What I’m offering is _ free _…”

Castiel sighed, folding himself further in half. After paying for his groceries, he knew the last thing he wanted to see was an expensive medical bill. That was the only reason he found himself following Dean to his car in an undignified waddle. _ Not _ because of the plaintive and desperate tone hidden in the rough timbre of Dean’s voice. It absolutely didn’t have him straining his neck against the pain to sneak a quick look at Dean’s face, to see whether or not it matched.

“That’s it, dude, nice and slow…” Dean guided him away, his bags in Dean’s hands. “You’re lucky my Baby’s not too far away.”

“Probably the only good fortune I’ll find today.”

Dean chuckled, “Come on… think of all the good vibes that are waiting for you.” They stopped at his car, Dean opening the back seat door for him. “I’m gonna need you to try and lay down here.”

Castiel shuffled over preparing to lift himself up onto the bench. The first attempt made him cry out in pain and to retreat closer to his legs. “I can’t –“

“Yes you can, Cas,” Dean encouraged him, rubbing at his back, “It’s gonna hurt but I promise you not for too long. I know you got this.” Kneading at the knot, the pain dulled somewhat, enough for Castiel to work towards the courage to try again. He placed his hands on the leather seat and slowly unfolded himself from the forced position.

It hurt worse than he realized. Dean was right, though. After climbing in and lying down on his back, the distress lessened to a more manageable level. Dean closed the door, scrunching his knees onto his chest. He didn’t enter the driver’s seat at first, instead putting their groceries away if the sound of the trunk was anything to go by.

“I’ll cruise nice and gentle,” Dean assured him after starting the engine, “Enough to make up for the lack of a seat belt.”

Castiel stuttered out a shaky breath. “Just avoid any potholes and I’ll be fine.”

Laughing, Dean pulled out from the parking spot. “This pot_head _ will keep his eye out for any pot_holes _.” Castiel groaned at the painful pun. Dean took that as a cue to keep talking. “I hope you don’t mind if I put on some tunes.”

“It’s your car,” Castiel said, “Go away.”

“All rocking tunes, you’ll love ‘em,” Dean said, hitting a button on his dashboard. Immediately music blared to life, startling Castiel and sending another shockwave of pain throughout his body. “Whoops… forgot I was blasting it before.”

“What is this?”

“It’s the Dead, dude!”

“The what?”

“The Dead – the Grateful Dead! Have you never heard of them before?”

Castiel sighed. “No. I don’t really listen to music.”

Dean gasped. “No music? Then what do you even _ listen _ to?”

“Audio books, podcasts… _ nature _.”

“Okay, I can dig,” Dean said, “But you’ve gotta listen to the Dead, man. Especially _ live _.”

“I take it _ you have _?”

“Of course…” Prompted, Dean then recounted to Castiel a time when he followed the band on a tour throughout the States alongside his father and a few friends. “On the road… grooving out to awesome music and meeting a whole bunch of people. It was one of the best parts of my childhood.”

“And your dad was _ okay _ with having you with him?”

“I’m sure you know enough from Sammy to understand he wasn’t a _ typical _ dad,” Dean explained, “And he looked after me the best he could, along with Bobby, Crowley, and all the others. I grew up with more than _ one _ parent – every adult on the commune took responsibility for the kids.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “A lot of parents must have meant a lot of _ rules _.”

“Nah, not with them,” Dean said, ignorant to Castiel’s sarcastic tone, “really encouraged free growth and exploration. Hell, some days John ended up muddier than _ me _ when we met back up at the bus.”

The conversation died back down, Castiel letting the music overtake him while Dean drove. He digested the nugget of backstory Dean offered quietly, turning it over while the ‘Dead’ played on. Glancing at Dean, he tried to imagine what he was like younger. It wasn’t a difficult task, the easy grin probably the same albeit a little smaller. Green eyes were still bright with the childlike wonder that most adults have lost on the arduous journey of growing up. His childhood must have been an impressive buffet of delicious acts that most others could never get away with.

But why, Castiel asked himself, would he want to leave that paradise and re-enter a different, stricter society?

“All right we’re here!”

Dean parked his car, tugging the key out and cutting the singer’s voice off. “So,” he turned to Cas, beaming, “What’d you think of the tunes?”

Castiel sighed. “I’m sorry to say that I was concerned with much more _ pressing _ issues at the time.”

“Bummer.” Dean shrugged, heading out of the car to help Castiel. His palms were much smoother than he expected, fitting within Castiel's hands perfectly. “That just means we’ll need to schedule a better time for me to introduce you to Jerry, Bob, Bill, Phil, and the rest.”

“I’ll have my secretary call your secretary and have them work something out.”

“Dude, I don’t have a secretary…”

Castiel hissed, less from the pain and more from the abnormal length of exposure to Dean’s presence. “How much further until we’re there?”

“Just a few more steps,” Dean said, “And… a stairway –“

“Stairs!”

“Sorry, I live on the second floor of the shop.”

Castiel glanced at the building’s back, the faded brick hiding any sort of originality. “And what shop do you live over?”

“My shop.”

“_Your_ shop?”

Dean led him towards a door and pushed him through. Inside was a small stairwell, Castiel paling at the sight. “We’ll be up there no problem,” Dean whispered, squeezing Castiel’s hand, “Think about something else… you were asking me what kind of shop I run. Well… instead of me telling you, why don’t you try guessing?”

Castiel tried to glare at Dean; only his neck couldn’t turn far enough for any effect to be had. The other man continued offering muttered encouragements, voice so soft it seeped into his skin like maple syrup. Sticking to his straining muscles like their own kind of salve. Rolling his eyes, Castiel stepped forward and started playing Dean’s game. “It wouldn’t be something obvious like a marijuana shop, would it?”

“It would not,” Dean answered, “That’d require more work than I want – a whole ‘nother license.”

“So you already had a license for this?”

“Back where I came from I did,” Dean said, helping Castiel’s leg swing forward another step, “Didn’t take much to get one here, thankfully.”

“Did you have to take classes? Back when you lived on the commune?”

“Yeah, but not for long,” Dean said, “Just one course… really impressed the teacher. Said I had the magic touch.”

“Is that a euphemism or something?”

“Well, maybe… I didn’t sleep with her until after I got my certificate.”

“The wait must have been excruciating.”

“Focus Cas, what kind of shop do I run?”

Still climbing the stairs, Castiel ran through a bevy of possibilities for Dean’s profession. It was impossible to decide on one that would be a fit for the other man. “I give up.”

“You do?” Dean asks. Sighing, he grins. “Might as well, since we’re up the stairs and all.”

“What?” Castiel blinked, finally focusing on his surroundings. He noticed a plain door in front of him, tracing the beige paint down to see an eco-friendly welcome mat.

“Before you ask,” Dean started, opening the door for him, “Yes, it’s real. I thought about using astro-turf but this feels so much better. Come on in!” He walked into the apartment, allowing Castiel to shuffle forward on his own.

Dean’s apartment was nothing like the hippie pad Castiel imagined. Based off of comics and unfair characterizations media assigned. It was cluttered, as he expected, but the walls were not a smattering tie-dye of colors. Instead the pale yellow, a calming color, startled him.

“Sorry for the mess,” Dean said, coming back with a few jars in his hands, “guy who sold it to me said it was a studio… one room means everything kind of lays on top of each other.”

“I see,” Castiel took everything in with a critical eye. A worn sofa and two chairs sat off to the right, none of them looking like they came from the same collection. A small television rested on an overturned crate a few feet away from it. Between the couch and the television was a simple table. There were a few books, an ashtray, some crystals, a wooden box and a tall, glass object placed on it. He recognized it from the windows of convenience stores, sold even when their purpose was outlawed.

Diagonally across from the tiny living room was the kitchen. A small counter wedged itself between an oven and a fridge, squeezed in there like it could fly out at any minute. The appliances bookending it both looked to be relics from the past, a recurring theme to Dean’s possessions. However unlike Dean’s classic car, both barely had the same kind of upkeep. There were three cabinets hanging above the counter along with a microwave. A round table sat not far away, three chairs haphazardly tucked underneath.

Dean crouched behind his couch. Castiel crept forward, curious to see what he was working with.

He grabbed at different pieces of clothes that were strewn across his bed. Dean’s mattress had no frame or box spring, resting on the floor. After collecting the final piece, Dean dumped the clothes in his arms over by a small pile in the corner.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dean told him, nodding at the bed, “Then we’ll get you all fixed up.”

“Are you sure?” Castiel asked, frozen, “I mean… I need to go to a professional.”

“I am a professional Cas.”

“A professional what? I never did get an answer as to what you do.”

Dean chuckled, turning to face him. “I’m a masseuse. Y’know… someone who gives massages?”

Castiel sighed. “I know what a masseuse is, Dean.” Biting his lip, he glanced at the bed. “So… the shop you live above… the one you own…?”

“It’s my own massage parlor,” Dean explained, “with some slight yoga… I’m still working on that. I only got a few clients so far but I’m building out my customer base.”

Castiel attempted to lower himself onto the bed, trying to focus more on the conversation then his pain. “Did you have a business back… wherever it is you came from?”

“Not anything legitimate,” Dean explained, “I used to have a stand I’d set up at a farmer’s market while everyone else sold their own wares… it was a pretty sweet gig. I miss the sunshine and everything, but the little station I made for myself downstairs works well enough.”

Castiel paused. “Wait… you have a set up downstairs?”

“Of course. It’s a massage parlor, Cas.”

“Then why did you make me walk up all those _ stairs _?”

“Because you’re not a customer, Cas,” Dean explained, helping him settle comfortably on his chest and fixing the pillow for him. “You’re a friend. Besides the energies down there wouldn’t have been conducive for your healing.”

Castiel wanted to argue Dean’s logic; only the other man ended any chance for rebuttal by walking away. “Where are you going?”

“Dude I’ve got perishables,” he said, “I’m gonna grab our groceries from the car. I’ll be back up before you know it!” Dean left, not even bothering to close the door after him. 

Castiel sank into the mattress with a heavy sigh, mind racing with how strange this day became. He rested his cheek against Dean’s smoke-heavy pillows, eyeing a few of the things he let sit on the floor. Besides the clothes there were some more crystals, a worn book by Kurt Vonnegut and, most embarrassingly, a package of self-lubricating condoms.

Blushing, Castiel turned away and instead stared at the other side of the room until Dean returned. He watched the other man put away both their groceries, keeping Castiel’s together in his fridge for easy differentiation.

The silence hung thick between them, and while Castiel should thank the Lord for the reprieve from Dean’s confusing ramblings, the alternative was much worse. He cleared his throat. “So,” he started, “a masseuse? Why that?”

Dean shrugged, tossing an apple between his hands. “Kinda fell into it. Was walking ‘round town when I saw a flier advertising for classes. Didn’t really have much to do - had finished homeschool a few months back with a certified GED in my back pocket. Figured I’d go for a laugh and in the end have another trick to pick up lays. But then I realized…” he stopped fiddling with the apple, smiling, his eyes locked on Castiel but clearly peering past him and far away. “I liked it. Being able to help people through my healing touch… learning to soothe aches and pains. Was like I became a walking, talking marijuana plant - without all the leaves and roots, y’know.”

“Clearly.”

“And ever since I’ve been doing it,” Dean finishes, rolling the apple along to join its friends on the counter. “I was right, though, too. It helped something fierce in the sack!”

As best he could Castiel rolled his eyes. “I can believe that since you’ve managed to get _ me _ in your bed.”

“Aw Cas,” Dean cooed, stepping closer, “I was hoping I didn’t have to resort to it, but if in the end you’re there…” He trailed off with a wink, kneeling down next to him.

Castiel blushed, willing his body to calm down. Logically he knew Dean only played with him. All that he learned about the other man screamed unattached straight bachelor. If he had a bedpost it would wobble from all the notches carved into it. Still that wasn’t enough to convince his heart to slow its beating.

Dean tapped at his shoulders, startling him back to the present. “Normally this is the part where I’d ask you to take your clothes off,” he whispered, voice dripping with sweet honey, “but since you’re not in any shape to do so, I’m gonna start with a basic massage to get you to that point okay? Let me know if I hurt you, and chin under the pillow.”

He fixed himself, facing as forward as he could in his current position. Castiel heard a flicker from a lighter beside him, and when he tried to look Dean pushed his head back. Resigning to stillness, Castiel prepared for the upcoming massage.

No amount of preparation could have readied Castiel for when Dean pressed his hands against his clothed back. Even with the barrier between them Dean’s warmth seeped into Castiel’s being as he kneaded the sore areas.

While the pain didn’t hurt as much in his shoulder blades, Dean began there. “It’s better to work up to it,” he said, “That way I’m not aggravating too much all at once, y’know?” He continued his ministrations for a few minutes, and then slipped a few inches lower.

Castiel muffled a moan, burying his face into Dean’s pillow. Dean must have heard it, the earthy chuckle dancing into his ears clear as a summer sky. Propping his face back up again, Castiel said, “You are _ really _ good at what you do.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, “hope you still feel the same after I reach the source.”

“I don’t know about - _ motherfucker _!” Castiel seized, pain unfurling across his lower back like a set of wings. Dean’s soothing chants play in the background of Castiel’s strong line of curses until the hurt falls into to an uncomfortable but manageable level.

He worked the area like a baker with a pound of dough, thumbs and knuckles marking him. “...You were saying?”

“Dean,” he sighed, resigned to failure, “I don’t know if your skills are enough to fix this.”

“Trust me, Cas, that was only the beginning.” Dean hummed, ignoring the clear defeat in his voice. “I think it’s time you take off your shirt.”

“W-what?”

“Your shirt. Off.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want me to get oil on it, do you?

Castiel nodded dumbly, going along with Dean’s reasoning and ignoring the images his traitorous brain supplied.

Dean held up a jar, examining it. “Do you need any help or…?”

“No, no I think I can handle this.” Castiel lifted himself slowly, not willing to take any chances. He sat on his knees to take his shirt off; the process much longer because of his fear. By the time he tossed it to the side, Dean’s hands were coated in glistening oils.

“Lay back down,” Dean said, “This is the fun part.”

“The fun part?”

“Skin-to-skin contact.”

“Ah.” Castiel relaxed against the bed once more, tucking the pillow under his chest so he could rest easier. “Knowing you, I’m not surprised to find you enjoy… skin-to-skin contact.”

Dean laughed. “What can I say, Cas? I’ve always been a fan of the human body and all its shapes, planes, curves, and _ angles _.” Slick hands slid down Castiel’s back as he muttered something out of earshot.

“What was that?”

“Nothing important,” Dean said, “Now I’m going to press against the problem area again, on a scale of one-to-ten tell me how much pain you’re in.”

Castiel bit his lip, anxious for Dean’s touch. In hindsight it was comparable to a slight tap. Castiel cried out like Dean slammed a hammer into him, “Nine! Nine and a half!”

“That’s… not good,” Dean sighed, kneading around the knot. “Okay, I think I’m going to try what I did before but more centralized… there’s going to be pain, but not a lot -”

Castiel scoffed. “I thought the whole point of this was to _ remove _ the pain?”

“You can’t find peace on a smooth and steady road, Cas. Or have you never walked across a bed of hot coals?”

“The opportunity never presented itself, no.”

“So what I’m going to do now we’ve done before,” Dean ignored his sarcasm, striding along, “Like with the stairs. When it comes to pain this bad I find a little bit of distraction never hurt.”

“But doesn’t telling me defeat the purpose?” Castiel asked, “Won’t me knowing about you trying to distract me only make me more aware?”

“Not if you ask me the right question.”

“What?”

Dean sighed, laying cool hands on his shoulders. “Free shot. You can ask me _ anything _ and I’ll tell you about it. You’re a curious guy, Castiel, I can see all the questions you have about me during every one of our little encounters… I get it. Part of my charm is the mystery. But I’m cool with letting some of my laundry dry if it means by the end of our session your back’s better than it was before.”

Castiel considered the offer, rolling it around his mouth like he did with a glass of Chardonnay one summer ago when an ex convinced him wine tasting would be a fun date idea. The possibility of Dean’s secrets had a sweet taste, enough that he can get drunk off it with only a sip. He hoped once it went down a dry, bitterness wouldn’t reveal itself.

“One question?”

“Choose wisely.”

“...Why move here?”

Dean’s hands pressed harder down on Castiel’s body, fingers digging in as if to leave marks. He chuckled, “How long have you been waiting to ask that?”

Castiel shrugged, moving Dean’s hands along with the motion. “Probably after Sam told me your history.”

“Why do you think I moved here?”

He growled, shifting under Dean’s steady touch. “I thought you were going to answer my question -”

“I will, I will,” Dean promised, “But first I want to hear your answer. Who knows… it might be better than _mine_.”

His hands began tracing Castiel’s skin, spreading the oil across the planes of his tanned back. Castiel relaxed as the sweet smell wafted towards his nose. He wasn’t sure whether it was whatever Dean burned earlier or the oil, nevertheless it eased Castiel’s nerves somewhat.

“I… Maybe you got bored,” Castiel started, curling Dean’s pillow tighter under his chest, “Living on a commune was fine for a long time but you wanted more. Maybe there was no one _ new _ to sleep with... or all the pot started to _ taste _ the same.” Dean snorted, hiding his amusement behind a cough. Castiel tuned it out, continuing with his reasoning. “You were thinking of where to go for some new adventure and because of California’s rich history with others of your way of life figured it would be a perfect fit. That, coupled with Sam’s proximity, meant you had something to fall back on in case re-entering society didn’t turn out how you thought it might.”

Dean didn’t answer, letting Castiel fill in the blanks of their silence. As he worked at the area around the knot bolts of pain pricked at the periphery of his attention. Instead of focusing on that, however, he worried what he said was the wrong thing. That he offended Dean, a Herculean feat above all others. When the guilt chewed halfway through his gut, his masseuse’s familiar rumble picked up again.

“You’re not too far off,” Dean mumbled, hands tapping at his sides, “Got parts of it wrong, but… broad strokes were pretty okay. Gave me a good sense of the picture.”

“What picture?”

“My picture - how you see _ me _.”

His heart sank into the waiting maw of the monster that abandoned his tattered stomach. “Dean -”

“I did want to get away,” Dean admitted, “Not that I thought the commune was too small or boring but… I wanted to run away from stuff.”

He didn’t elaborate, so Castiel prodded him. “What stuff?”

“Why does any good looking guy turn tail,” he said, “_ Love _ stuff.”

Between bites his heart sends out a death cry, a startling sound of recognition. He understands exactly what Dean meant with those two words, having gone through enough of his own troubles with ‘love stuff’.

“Her name was Lisa,” Dean told him, “I thought we had something special… hell, her kid did, too. His name was Ben. I think that’s what made everything all different than the other hookups… having him there gave the illusion that we were a family. She didn’t set any boundaries so of course I grew attached to her kid. Near the end I stopped going over to her house for sex and instead expecting dinner and some quiet time together… went to parks with them and even taught him a few things, like a _dad_ would. Before I knew it, my heart was making spaces for Lisa and Ben.”

“...Then what happened?”

“I go to visit one afternoon - Ben’s at baseball practice so I figured I’d surprise her with some ‘_alone time_’. Hadn't done it in a while, figured we were well over due. Turns out I should’ve called first since she had someone over.”

“_No_.”

“He was a doctor,” Dean said, “And everything I _ wasn’t _ , apparently. She laid out her reality for me right there on her front porch. I had no place in it. ‘_A way to blow off steam _ ’ she called us, ‘_definitely not long-term _’. Apparently the only one serious about our relationship was me.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “I mean she didn’t mean it negatively, Lisa thought that I felt the same. Said it fit with how I ‘_presented _’ myself. I… did a lot of self-reflection and meditation after that.”

Castiel shifted, reaching out to grab Dean’s knee and squeeze comfortingly. Dean’s hands stilled for the briefest of moments, squeezing into Castiel’s back in return. “And it was because of that you moved here?”

“I needed a fresh start,” Dean confessed, “Away from all the faces that I grew up with. They knew how gone I was on Lisa, and I couldn’t stand all the pitying looks. Plus everywhere I went I couldn’t scrub the energies of the past with Lisa and Ben… it’s like their ghosts were following me wherever I went. So I packed it all into my car and shot off.”

“And you somehow ended up in the same state - the same _ city _ \- as your brother?”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, maybe I did a little extra leg work. What Lisa said really stuck with me… made me think about some other parts of my life. While I had all the people in the commune there were still a few others my heart was aching for.”

“Sam and your mother?”

“As the years built up we drifted apart,” he said, “Mainly because the older he got the more Sam shut down. All he saw when he looked at me was a carbon copy of our ol’ man. And if you really wanted to see a poor relationship you should look at those two... worse than me and Sam. Anyway, figured since I couldn’t fix things with Lisa - it was clear that the train had left the station - that there were other relationships I could repair.”

Castiel hummed, tapping his fingers against the inside of Dean’s thigh, rubbing his thumb against the soft linen resting there. “Sam’s not making it very easy, though, is he?”

“And he says I’m the clone,” Dean chuckled, “That’s John’s stubbornness if I ever saw it. I thought the job and the apartment would show him that I’m committed to being a better brother but he’s not even willing to give me a chance. He _ still _ hasn’t seen my pad. All I want now are real, human connections in my life, but people don’t think that’s what I want. _ Sam _doesn’t think that’s what I want.”

“Maybe he doesn’t take your efforts seriously,” Castiel said, “Seeing as how you still dress and act as you have before, he thinks there’s no true effort on your part.”

“Well, shit man, that’s just who I am. I shouldn’t have to change the core of my being for other people to like me. I want to be in his life, but not if I have to become someone I ain’t.” Dean kneaded at his lower back, causing Castiel to curl his chin towards his chest and let out a low moan. “Besides, I took one step. Figured the ball’s in his court or whatever. Not all the change has to be on my end - meet me halfway or something…” He pulled back, cold rushing over where his touch was.

Castiel bit back the hiss, not willing to let Dean know he wanted his hands there a few seconds longer. Or forever, if it were possible.

“Give it a try,” Dean said, “Should be better than before.”

He tested it, first slipping his hands underneath and pushing up. After the first few inches with no serious twinges Castiel rose up on his knees and stretched fully. A risky move that could send him sprawling onto the floor in a heap, embarrassing himself further. Luckily the nerves didn’t protest.

“It’s… nice,” Castiel chuckled, “Dean, I think you fixed - _ mmf _!”

Dean laid his hand on Castiel’s cheek and kissed him. His thoughts stalled, crashing into each other and piling up. The smoke from them billowed out of his ears while he stared at the freckles across Dean’s nose.

He sat back, smiling with his glassy green eyes shining at him.

“What,” Castiel started, “What was that?”

Dean laughed. “A kiss?”

“Yes, I know but… I’m a guy?”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re not straight?”

“Gross,” Dean frowned, “Restricting myself to only _ one _ gender ain’t what I’m about, angel. Free love means I pull up a plate and sample everything on the buffet.”

Castiel matched Dean’s expression. “So that right then…?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean trailed his hand down from Castiel’s cheek to his collarbone, rubbing his thumb across the flushed skin. “I might be open to everything, but when I like someone I know when to keep my plate empty.”

Oceans roared from nearby, washing over every other sound around them. The monster sitting inside his chest spat his heart out, unable to keep it down as it beat too wildly. “You like me?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “There’s something about you that I’m drawn, too… you feel the same about me, right?”

He hesitated to admit it, but sheepishly Castiel nodded. “I find myself thinking of you… even when I have no reason to.”

“I knew you were something special the moment I laid eyes on you,” Dean said, “your soul reached out to me that night and left a handprint on it.”

“What you said makes no sense at all,” Castiel huffed, “But I completely understand.” He leaned forward and recaptured Dean’s lips, fingers sneaking their way into Dean’s hair to tug at the roots.

“Groovy,” Dean murmured between kisses, grinning lazily, “You kiss like I imagined you would…”

“You thought about me kissing you?”

“I thought a lot about you doing a whole bunch of stuff,” he said, “kissing _ included _.”

Castiel paused, lips pressed against Dean’s stubble. “Then let’s stop thinking and just _ do _.”

“I can get on board with that.”

They kept going, Castiel fighting with the flimsy material of Dean’s shirt as it clung to his chest. Dean stopped him, ripping it off in one swift motion and tossing it over Castiel’s forgotten shirt.

“That’s unfair.”

“Who cares. Lose the pants… or do you need help with them, too?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, hands fumbling with his belt. He squirmed out of his pants, running into a problem when he remembered his shoes were still on. Dean said nothing, slipping easily from his own casings.

Once his shoes were gone the rest of Castiel’s clothing fell away. They looked at each other in their natural state, too entranced to breathe. Dean’s freckles decorated his skin like stars in the night sky, a fitting metaphor since a few of them were connected by tattooed lines. Castiel broke from the spell first, reaching forward to trace the design on his ribs.

“Aquarius,” Dean explained, “my star sign…”

“And this one?” Castiel inspected the star wreathed in flames over his heart, “Does it have any spiritual significance?”

“Wards away demons and evil spirits,” he said, “Was a present.”

“How so?”

“Would you believe me and Sam got matching tattoos on his eighteenth birthday?”

“Given how I’ve seen you two act,” Castiel said, “I wouldn’t.”

“Before his high school graduation…” Dean started, tapping at the brand, “I drove down to stay with him and Mary all of May. One Friday night while she was out I managed to convince him it’d be a good idea. Probably the last time I was able to do that.”

“And Mary? What did she think?”

“She thought it was stupid,” he told him, “And wished she was there to see Sam puke halfway through.”

They laughed, Castiel’s forehead falling to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Their arms wrapped around each other and all urgency evaporated in that instant. It was enough to hold each other, content in the embrace.

“I’m not good at this,” Castiel said, “I’ve got a list of exes longer than my arm… and I’ve been on so many first dates I can’t remember them all.”

“I’ve never been good at planning for the future, Cas,” Dean said, “Let’s… take it one step at a time.”

“You mean... make it up as we go along?”

“I want to kiss you again.”

“...Please, do.”

Dean’s lips were rough and the taste of smoke filled Castiel’s mouth, even though he knew Dean hadn’t a cigarette lit anywhere near him. He found himself getting high off the other man. Gently, they lower themselves back onto the bed to continue making out.

“So,” Dean asked, Castiel’s teeth scraping against his neck, “any preference? I’m cool with whatever, but -”

“Bottom.”

“You or me?”

Castiel’s leg wraps itself around Dean’s waist, dragging his crotch closer to his. Dean startled and keened at the contact.

“Guess that answers that…” he hissed, “Good thing I used a _ lot _ of oil…”

Dean’s hand tickled Castiel’s ribs, dancing their way to Castiel’s waiting hole. The oil from earlier still coated Dean’s fingers, however they were warmed considerably. It left a trail, waiting to be lit aflame. Dean circled his entrance deliberately, causing Castiel to leave a wicked bruise as the seconds became agonizing. “Dean -!”

“I told you, Cas,” he said, “I’ve got the magic touch… let me handle this.” Then he slipped one finger in, curling it, immediately finding Castiel’s prostate. He cursed, rainbows and flowers dancing behind his eyelids. The music from earlier roared close by as if summoned by Dean's foreplay. Like his abilities were truly supernatural. Castiel wondered for a brief moment if their auras mingled like their bodies, souls dancing together and sharing in an unknown intimacy. He quickly dropped the thought as Dean found his prostate.

Castiel rode Dean’s finger, not even noticing when one became two until he felt Dean scissoring from within. “Throwing up peace signs during sex?” he huffed, wheezing a chuckle.

“Of course,” Dean laughed, crooking both fingers, “Haven’t you ever slept with a hippie before?”

“My bed has seen financial advisors… accountants… even a chef once. But, no, never a hippie.”

“Then you’ve never made _ love _ before,” Dean said, smirking, “Hippies know how to have the best sex.”

“Do they?”

“Sure… what did you think love _ beads _ were made for?”

Castiel hid his face in Dean’s chest, juggling between giggles and moans while Dean quickly adds his final two fingers. He stretched himwide, Castiel’s back arching wide. In a fit of ecstasy, Castiel’s strength doubled and he flipped them so he now straddled Dean.

Rushing up, Castiel let his hand splay across Dean’s stomach while riding Dean’s fingers. Moaning and cursing, Castiel humped back and forth in time to Dean’s efforts. He felt Dean’s other hand knead his ass, watched Dean bite his lip before ducking down to find both their leaking cocks rubbing against each other.

Friction sent sparks through his body. Castiel guessed he wouldn’t be holding out for long. When Dean inched his pointer a fraction to the left, Castiel’s cock seized and spurted cum like a water fountain. It coated Dean’s curly pubes and hit up against the back of his wrists where they rested.

Spent, Castiel waited for Dean to remove his hand before rolling over and off to the side. They laid there, breathing shallowly, soaking in the moment Castiel orgasmed. “I…” Castiel started, “I don’t think I’ve ever…” He giggled, “You really do have a magic touch.”

“Best in the class,” Dean mentioned, tugging at his still straining dick.

Castiel didn’t notice, too lost in the post-coital haze. “It’s funny… I mean I’m usually wound so tight during sex - it takes most other men much longer to get me open. But that was so quick…” He sucked in some air, licking his lips as the sweet aroma hit his nose. “It can’t all be your ‘magic touch’.”

“Now I’m hurt.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Well I am _ very _ experienced,” Dean started, “But… I might have had some help.” Castiel shifted, resting on his palm so to face Dean. “I’ve found that when you want to relax muscles, the best kind of oils to use are the ones containing CBD… which is what I used when I massaged your back before… you know.”

“CBD…” Castiel muttered, “Where have I heard that before?”

“It’s one of the main ingredients in _ marijuana _,” he continued, “which… I also have been burning since we began.”

Castiel stared at him with large eyes, mouth wide open. “What?”

“It’s what I do for all the really _ bad _ cases,” Dean explains, “Or the… the _ special _ clients!”

“Are you telling me that I’m _ stoned _right now?”

“I wouldn’t say _stoned_,” Dean winced, “Maybe a _little_ _high_, but CBD is non-psychoactive. So you won’t be getting all the fun stuff.”

Castiel fell onto his back, aware of how numb it felt. A pit opened up in his chest, a swirling mass of anxiety and doubt. But then, in a blink, it collapsed into itself; erupting into a cascading mass of rainbow-colored butterflies that filled his being. He chuckled, building into uproarious laughter.

Dean smiled at him. “Knew you’d be a giggly stoner.”

“Dean,” Castiel breathed, glancing at him, “please, don’t ever change.”

He met his gaze; features softening as he grabs Castiel’s hand, lightly brushing a kiss to the knuckles. “Of course.”

Blushing, Castiel ducked down and finally noticed Dean’s bulging erection. “Oh, did you not come?”

“There were… ah - other, more important things to worry about.”

“Well that’s unfair now is it?” Castiel said, shuffling down so his breath was ghosting the flushed head of Dean’s cock, “That I get to come and you don’t…” He tapped at Dean’s balls, “After everything you’ve done for me already…”

“I mean… I _ could _ come,” Dean stuttered, “If I had a little help.”

“Yes, help… now, I may not have magic fingers, _ but _…”

“_But _…”

He smirked. “I’ve been told my mouth has a mind of its own.”

Dean moaned, cock twitching. “Correction. You’re a _ sexy _ stoner.”

[](https://ibb.co/KNRKmkd)

Sam cast a tight-lipped glance at the massage parlor in front of him, cringing at the hanging sign swaying with the wind. “Winchester’s Magic Fingers,” he scoffed, “I can’t believe he did this…”

Eileen elbowed him in his stomach, forcing his stare to meet hers. She signed to him, “Be nice.”

“It’s going to be hard.”

“He’s your brother,” she said, “And you’ve put this off long enough.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam stuffed back any further aggravation since she was right. Dean had been living nearby for over two months, and still he and Eileen hadn’t visited. Their excuses were running thin, and there was only so many times Sam could lie about being busy until he fell back on something his brother wouldn’t believe. So here they were with a tiny ornamental knick-knack they picked up from Bed, Bath, and Beyond to give as a housewarming present.

“So,” he started, fingers lazily moving alongside his mouth, “did he say where we should enter?”

“When he first texted us he said the door was in the back,” she explained, “We had to ring the bell?”

Sam sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s get this over with then.”

They hurry around the corner to where the parking lot entrance waited, Sam easily spying Dean’s car in her glory. It was parked in front of an innocuous door on the back of the building. “This must be it.”

He stepped over to the buzzer, waiting for Eileen to catch up before pressing it. Static buzzed for a few seconds until Dean’s tinny voice replaced it. “Come on up.” A shorter, higher-pitched sound rang out and Eileen pulled on the handle.

“Thanks,” Sam said, walking into the stairwell. He led the way up the steps and stopped shy of the welcome mat outside the second door, Eileen waiting behind him. “God this better not take long,” he muttered, readying a knock.

Dean opened the door, preempting Sam’s fist. He was counting bills, hair falling in his face while a bed sheet was tied around his waist. “Okay, so how much do I leave for tip? I can never remember if it’s fifteen or twenty percent…” Looking up, Dean finally realized Sam and Eileen stood on the other side of the door. “Oh, wow… this - I’m not hallucinating now, am I?”

“No,” Sam said, “It’s really… _ us _.” He scanned his brother once more, noticing the bites on his neck and the redness spread across his chest. Scowling, he sniffed the air. The familiar stench of weed and sex pricked at his nose. “Gross. Really Dean?”

“Hey, you could’ve warned a guy.”

“We sent you several texts,” Eileen said, “And we brought you a gift.”

Dean signed to her, “Thanks, Eileen.”

“Listen, though,” Sam cut in, shifting on his feet, “if you’re busy… why don’t Eileen and I come back some other time -”

“No Sam, come on, it'll be like 5 minutes for us to get clothes on -”

“Really, it wouldn’t be a problem -”

“Dean,” a familiar voice called from behind, “Dean where do you keep your towels?”

[ ](https://ibb.co/sjTmvVJ)

Sam’s scowl deepened when he recognized the other person in Dean’s apartment. And as his fury grew so did Dean’s worry. He shuffled backwards, allowing Sam the chance to charge in and catch the aftermath of an unfortunate event.

Castiel, head peeking out from behind Dean’s bathroom door and noticed Sam barge in. Frozen, he could only watch as Sam took in his mussed, wet hair and bloodshot eyes. Differentiate which clothes were Dean’s and which were Castiel’s, as if he could tell the order they ripped them off.

“You,” he rounded on his brother with fury and indignation, “I can’t believe you did it again!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming along on this journey. Let me know what you thought by dropping some lovely kudos and/or comments!
> 
> Until next fic! ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Oh, Brother!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725019) by [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley)


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